


Hair

by andonlythinkofme



Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andonlythinkofme/pseuds/andonlythinkofme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Carol ran her fingers through the young girl's hair, gathering it up so she could secure the strands in a pink hair tie."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hair

**Author's Note:**

> a fic of Carol and hair. There are implications of sexual situations so warning warning.

Daryl wondered if his own Ma ever sang to him. He swiped the blade of his knife across the rock again, sharpening its edge. He sat cross legged on the dirt close to the dying fire, the rock held still by his connected ankles. Most all the other people in the quarry had gone down to the water to bathe and get drinking water to boil.  The only other people around the fire were the black woman, Jacqui, who Merle thought was a right bitch, and the old woman with her child. Daryl didn’t actually know if the woman was old or not, but he saw her grey hair and judged it from that. He had been ignoring them steadily until he heard a small voice singing. The old woman sat on a log, her whelp perched on her lap. Daryl knew the woman’s name was Carol. The name seemed to fit the angular shape of her face and the blue of her eyes. Carol ran her fingers through the young girl’s hair, gathering it up so she could secure the strands in a pink hair tie. All the while she sang to the girl. Daryl didn’t much remember his Ma, but if Merle’s stories were right than she probably wasn’t half as nice as Lady. He kept his eyes down and worked on his knife. The last thing he needed was o think about the past, especially with such an ominous unknown future looming before him.

\----

Carol didn’t have any more hair ties. The trip to the CDC had been hard for everyone, things and people were lost, morale was low, but the perks of a hot shower and food almost made up for everything. Almost.

“Mama! Look how clean I am!” Sophia skipped out of the bathroom. Carol, seated on the large bed they would share, opened her arms so Sophia could sit on her lap.

“Oh, hun, you smell like soap again. We have to remember to thank Dr. Jenner again tomorrow.” Carol stroked her daughter’s hair back from her freckled face. She wished she had saved at least one tie for her girl.

“Do you think we’ll stay here long?” Sophia snuggled into her mother, seeking warmth. Carol felt a sharp tug in her heart. She prayed that they would. The rag-tag group could really set roots here. There was food, water, and electricity. Staying here and thriving was the best option for everyone and Carol knew Rick was probably planning on talking to Jenner about it come morning. She began to rock her little girl back and forth like she did when Sophia was a baby.

“I think we should trust Rick to get it all figured out.” She kissed Sophia on the temple.

“If you say so, Mama.”

Carol held her girl until Sophia’s breathing became slow and deep, signaling her escape into the unconscious. Carol wasn’t a very strong woman but she had just enough strength to support her daughter. She lifted Sophia up and deposited her under the bed covers. She gave her little girl another kiss than slipped in next to her. The padded mattress cradled her, soothing the aches in her back and legs. She nearly dropped off right then but held sleep at bay long enough to pray for many more nights curled up in this bed. Her plea to God finished, Carol closed her eyes and succumbed to the warmth surrounding her.

\----

A hobo bag can fit a lot of things. Carol had hers used it to store clothes, books, food, and at one point a grenade. But as she drove her hand in to search for a pen she felt something at the bottom. Something she’d thought she’d lost. Carol’s eyes burned with tears as she pulled forth a little pink hair tie, probably the last one in her possession. It was no use to her now though. Carol looked out the window of the Winnebago to the Greene’s farm house. On a little plot of land beside the home were several graves, one of which belonged to her little girl. Good thing no one else was sitting with her then because Carol was sure if anyone tried to talk to her she would fall apart. Carol wanted so badly to feel nothing like she had after Ed’s death. She wanted, needed, to be numb towards Sophia’s, because to feel even a fraction of the pain festering inside her would be enough to kill her. Carol pulled at the tie, stretching it out to its full length then crumpling it up in her fist. The smart thing to do would be to get rid of it. That’s what Daryl would tell her to do.

“Ya’ gotta survive, “he would tell her, “anything else ya’ can’t think ‘bout. Ya’ focus on livin’.”

Carol didn’t know when she started thinking about how Daryl would do things. Maybe it was when he started searching for Sophia, or maybe even before that when he would single-handedly supply food for the group night after night. Regardless, Daryl was usually right when it came to survival. Carol raised the tie up and kissed it. Then she opened the window of the Winnebago and tossed it out.

\----

Daryl pressed his face into Carol’s stomach, breathing in the scent of her bare skin. They lay together on his mattress in the nest overlooking the prison. The sounds of slumber echoing off the cement walls created a nice soundtrack for his thoughts. Even Merle’s angry huffs and curses seemed to fit.

\----

Everything had happened in a rush. As soon as Daryl entered the prison with Merle at his side, they were bombarded with angry voices; Glenn’s rising far above them all. It seemed no one wanted Merle back and frankly Daryl didn’t blame them. Still, he wished that it could all just magically work itself out. The hike back from Yellow Jacket, not to mention to emotions Daryl didn’t have the time nor the desire to process, was exhausting. Through the crowd of people hollering at him, Daryl could see Carol leaning against the far wall staring at him. After Merle was locked up in a secluded cell and tempers died down enough for people to leave the main area of the cellblock, Carol straightened herself up and walked towards him. The last time someone walked towards him with such determination, Daryl had a cigarette put out on him. Naturally, he flinched away from her, hating himself for that reaction. Carol was undeterred. She came right up to him, pale blue eyes shining.

“I didn’t think you were coming back.” She whispered.

“Well,” Daryl scratched the back of his head in embarrassment left over from his previous reaction, “ya’ll can’t get rid of me so easy.”

Carol laughed, a sound he secretly feared he would never hear again.

“Come with me, I have something to show you.” She said when her mirth had subsided.

Carol walked off, Daryl following behind her. If Merle had seen him he would have cuffed him upside the head and told him to “man up!”

She led him up to the nest he had claimed for his own. It all looked much as he left it, maybe a bit tidier, but that was probably because Carol had cleaned it for him.

“Um, thanks.” He mumbled, turning back to look at her in the doorway. She only shook her head at him.

“For the cleaning? That’s not it.”

“Then what?”

Carol stepped forward slowly, as if approaching a deer.

“Don’t freak out.” She whispered before kissing him. Not on the head this time, right on the mouth. She broke away only to come back for another and another. Daryl wasn’t sure what was involved with kissing having never done it before, but he recognized his body’s reaction, the need to feel close. He wrapped his arms about her waist and yanked her to him, eliciting a gasp that he smothered with his lips. He couldn’t possibly be doing it right, but Carol gasped and clung to his tighter so it must not have been all that bad. Carol led them both to the bed, using her meager weight best she could to get him down on it. She crawled onto his hips.

“I really didn’t think you were coming back.” She gazed down at him. Daryl was not comfortable with this at all, his desire to have her close and to push her off waged battle inside him.

“I thought ya’ would get it.” He avoided her eyes.

“I did, trust me. I know exactly why you did it, Daryl. I just wasn’t happy about it.”

Carol was distressed by Daryl’s lack of contact with her. He lay beneath her completely flat and remote. This too Carol understood. In an effort to get him to interact to get off him and instead lay beside him, her head cushioned on his chest.

“Carol, I, well I, I don’ know how to do this.”

“This?” Carol looked up at him.

“This.” He gestured at her with his chin. He reminded her of the guys she knew in high school, wanting to go with a girl but not knowing how to actually do it.

“Okay, that’s okay, just follow my lead.” Carol leaned up to kiss him.

“Trust me.”

\----

Daryl wasn’t good with words and some sort of confession or anything like that was not his style, but if the Governor attacked the prison again and the group had to split, Daryl was sure as hell going to take Carol with him. She had earned his trust over the course of the last few months and in the process secured his loyalty. If he hadn’t been sure before of his feelings for Carol, when he took his shirt off to reveal the scars scattered across his body, her quiet acceptance had etched it into his brain. He’d never thought laying naked before a woman was possible for him but with Carol, it seems it was.

His body jerked involuntarily when he felt something on his head. A small hand carded through his hair, scratching slightly at the back. Carol hummed lightly, something calm and soothing. The action reminded Daryl of the quarry, of Carol and Sophia and quiet nights under the moon before real hell overtook them.

He pressed himself closer to Carol and went to sleep. 


End file.
